Safe Spaces for Intensity

Ruth Asawa. Untitled. 1965 | MoMA

Ruth Asawa. Untitled. 1965. Lithograph. composition (irreg.): 19 15/16 × 25 7/16" (50.7 × 64.6 cm); sheet: 19 15/16 × 26 3/4" (50.7 × 67.9 cm). Tamarind Lithography Workshop, Inc., Los Angeles. Tamarind Lithography Workshop, Inc., Los Angeles. Gift of Kleiner, Bell & Co. 1615.1967. © Estate of Ruth Asawa. Drawings & Prints

Having often experienced intense rites of passage myself, I have come to wonder how we could design urban spaces to accommodate our human intensity. Living in a multicultural city, I find that the opportunity to express our personalities in public spaces is a meaningful way to integrate into existing societies and embrace our own identities.

The design and structure of cities heavily influence our behaviour and everyday lives. We follow certain movement and behavioural patterns, visiting places that are familiar and necessary for leisure, work, schools and kindergartens.

However, I often think about where we can express the intensity of our being in the city.

How can we translate our experiences of rites of passage into urban spaces?

Rites of falling in love?

Rites of moving to a new country or city?

Rites of experiencing a crisis?

Rites of giving birth and the postpartum period?

Rites of grieving?

Rites of inspiration and creation?

Can these things only be experienced through informal self-organisation, or can they be preconceived in our designs? I have seen people express their intense existence many times in my home town of Skopje and in Bangkok, where I also feel at home. I have seen people readapt  their urban environment to survive. Could we, as architects and urban designers, create safe spaces for such intensity?

I often wonder why we don't use rites of passage when designing future scenarios and places in the city. What if, rather than profiling certain actors in our spatial scenarios, we started with certain life phases? What kind of urban designs would we come up with then?

As we strive to design cities and environments that embrace us as humans with their softness, how can urban design respond to:

our fear of dying?

And how can urban design respond to our loneliness?

And how can urban design respond to our need to belong?

Think about it: what kinds of spaces would we need in the city?

Consider this: in which urban areas do you find yourself able to put these questions aside? How can urban spaces accommodate our intensity?

Rigidity will not save us. We need safe spaces in which to express our intensity, so that we can break down social, political and economic enclaves, and participate and thrive as individuals and as a collective.

Do we need a little openness and design flexibility to feel safe enough to express our intensity?

We need urban environments that can adapt to our human rites of passage.